In approaching Jerusalem, we came up the Pass of Latroon.  He writes:  “The last day’s journey to Jerusalem was the finest I ever had in all my life.  For four hours we were ascending the rocky pass upon our patient camels.  It was like the finest of our Highland scenes, only the trees and flowers, and the voice of the turtle, told us that it was Immanuel’s land.”  Riding along, he remarked, that to have seen the plain of Judea and this mountain-pass, was enough to reward us for all our fatigue; and then began to call up passages of the Old Testament Scriptures which might seem to refer to such scenery as that before us.

During our ten days at Jerusalem, there were few objects within reach that we did not eagerly seek to visit.  “We stood at the turning of the road where Jesus came near and beheld the city and wept over it.  And if we had had more of the mind that was in Jesus, I think we should have wept also.”  This was his remark in a letter homeward; and to Mr. Bonar of Larbert he expressed his feelings in regard to the Mount of Olives and its vicinity:  “I remember the day when I saw you last, you said that there were other discoveries to be made than those in the physical world,—­that there were sights to be seen in the spiritual world, and depths to be penetrated of far greater importance.  I have often thought of the truth of your remark.  But if there is a place on earth where physical scenery can help us to discover divine things, I think it is Mount Olivet.  Gethsemane at your feet leads your soul to meditate on Christ’s love and determination to undergo divine wrath for us.  The cup was set before Him there, and there He said.  ’Shall I not drink it?’ The spot where He wept makes you think of his divine compassion, mingling with his human tenderness,—­his awful justice, that would not spare the city,—­his superhuman love, that wept over its coming misery!  Turning the other way, and looking to the south-east, you see Bethany, reminding you of his love to his own,—­that his name is love,—­that in all our afflictions He is afflicted,—­that those who are in their graves shall one day come forth at his command.  A little farther down you see the Dead Sea, stretching far among the mountains its still and sullen waters.  This deepens and solemnizes all, and makes you go away, saying, ’How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?’”

He wrote to another friend in Scotland, from Mount Zion, where we were then dwelling:—­

Mount Zion, June 12, 1839.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—­Now that we are in the most wonderful spot in all this world,—­where Jesus lived and walked, and prayed and died, and will come again,—­I doubt not you will be anxious to hear how we come on.  I am thankful that ever He privileged us to come to this land.  I heard of my flock yesterday by a letter from home,—­the first I have received, dated 8th May....  We are living in one of the missionaries’ houses on Mount Zion.